


Care Taking

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 09:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12230532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: It hadn't occurred to Clarke to wonder where Bellamy was; they often don't see each other for a few days. But then she runs into his sister getting medicine at CVS and suddenly she's involved.





	Care Taking

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sick all week and am still grumpy that CVS won't let people under 18 buy NyQuil like wtf.

"Clarke?"

Clarke startles, takes her earbuds out and turns to see a girl looking at her. It takes her a second to place her, and when she does, she frowns. "Octavia?"

Bellamy's little sister looks pleased to be recognized. "Hi."

"Hi. How are you? What's up?" She looks around for Bellamy automatically, but there's no sign of him. Now that she thinks about it, she hasn't seen him in a couple days. It's not shocking, but it's a little bit surprising. He's not in any of her classes this semester, but they still work together. Had he been on the schedule at the coffee shop? How long has it been?

"Okay. I actually need a weird favor."

"What weird favor?"

"Bell's got the flu or something, he wanted me to pick him up some more medicine. But it's one of those ones where you have to be eighteen, and they saw me and asked for an ID, which I don't have, and they didn't buy that I was getting it for my brother." She huffs. "Seriously, who gets high on DayQuil? Even I can find better drugs. Or I could," she adds, quick. "If I wanted to. Which I don't."

"Uh huh."

"Anyway. Can you get these for me? I'll pay you back. I just don't want to go home and tell Bell I couldn't get it, because he'll _definitely_ drag himself here himself, and then he'll just make himself sicker. So--"

"How long has he been sick?"

"A few days, but he only actually admitted he was, you know, _sick_ a yesterday. He was all, _oh, it's nothing, I can still work_. Indra sent him home from the coffee shop and told him not to come back until he was actually better."

"That sounds right. What are you guys eating?"

"Canned soup," says Octavia. "I already got that."

"How much of a pain in the ass is he being?"

"About the same as always. He hates being sick, so he's a dick, but he hates asking for help, so he doesn't. Which is kind of a mixed blessing. I'm amazed he let me buy him the medicine."

Clarke has to smile. She and Bellamy aren't exactly BFFs, but she does like him, and after a few years of having occasional classes together and working at the same coffee shop, she feels as if she knows him pretty well. She's never interacted with him when he's sick before, but she's not exactly shocked he's not good at it.

She also knows that Octavia is fifteen and Bellamy is her legal guardian, so he's probably having a pretty shitty few days, all things considered. He's got to be really stressed out.

"Okay, I'll get you the medicine, but I'm going to have to come verify that you're not using it to get high."

Octavia rolls her eyes. "You can just say you want to make sure Bell isn't dead or dying. I don't mind. I don't want to be responsible for him."

"I do kind of want to make sure he's not dead or dying," Clarke admits.

"I figured, yeah. He wasn't when I left, but there's only one way to know for sure."

"Buy you some cold medicine and follow you home?"

"A candy bar would be good too," she says, and Clarke rolls her eyes.

"Don't push your luck."

She does end up getting the candy bar for Octavia, as well as some orange juice and cough drops, when Octavia says they have neither at their place. Clarke is assuming Bellamy's goal is to be back on his feet and working as soon as possible, so she figures she can facilitate that. Even if she maybe shouldn't. He's going to start working too soon whether he's ready or not, so it's not really _enabling_. Just acknowledging the reality of the situation and proceeding accordingly.

Which seems like a perfectly good way to handle the whole thing until they're out of CVS and Octavia is saying, "You haven't been to our place, right?"

Bellamy's been to her dorm a couple times, usually when he's on campus between classes and needs somewhere to hang out, but he's never invited her over to his place. Not that it felt like he was avoiding it or anything, but Clarke rarely has much reason to go that far off campus. The only reason she was even at this CVS in the first place was that she was at a lecture at the museum and wanted to grab a drink before she went home. 

So he probably won't mind, but--this is a new kind of friendship for them.

"No," she tells Octavia. "I did know you guys lived somewhere around here."

"Bell's going to apologize because it's not cleaner and probably try to get up. You like arguing with him, right? Tell him not to."

"He's seen my dorm room, he knows my standards for cleanliness are low. If I'm lucky he'll be so confused I'm there that he won't have a chance to freak out about anything else."

"Oh, he can basically freak out about everything all the time," says Octavia, bright, like she's looking forward to it. "But yeah, you'll probably distract him."

"As long as I'm helping."

Their apartment is on the second floor of a duplex, and Octavia leads her up without explanation or comment. Not that she needs either, but it does add to her feeling of awkwardness, like she's somehow supposed to know what she's doing right now, instead of basically being at sea. 

Maybe it's a good sign. Maybe that means she doesn't have to worry about doing the right thing.

"I'm home!" Octavia calls, unlocking the door and pushing it open. "I got your medicine. Well, okay, Clarke got it."

Clarke is looking around, trying to get a sense of the place, but also trying to spot Bellamy. The first is more successful than the second; they're alone in the apartment's modest living room, and Clarke can see a couch and a TV, some game systems, DVDs, bookshelves. Nothing too special, but about what she'd expect from Bellamy, which is nice. She's glad to be right about him. 

Octavia is taking off her shoes, so Clarke does the same, and she's putting them up when she hears Bellamy say, "Clarke? Like-- _Clarke_?" from another room.

"Hi!" she calls, figuring it's best to just be upfront about her presence. He deserves a warning.

He sticks his head out of of a door on the left, squinting at her in confusion. He seems to be shirtless, wearing the glasses Clarke has only seen him in on a handful of occasions. His hair is even more of a mess than usual, and he's paler than she's ever seen him, haggard and worn out. 

"Clarke?" 

"Hey, you had your sister buying you illegal drugs."

The confusion deepens. "What?"

"I got carded buying cold medicine."

"Apparently teenagers use it to get high," Clarke adds.

"Or maybe make meth? I can't remember which one is for meth," Octavia muses, and Bellamy takes a quick break from staring at Clarke to glare at his sister.

"Why do you know how to make meth?"

"That's why I came by," Clarke says. "I was pretty sure you would never forgive me if I let your sister trick me into buying her meth ingredients."

That makes him smile, his whole face softening with it. Clarke doesn't often think about her attraction to Bellamy, because he largely exists in a slightly alternate reality, separate from her actual life. He's great, but he's a recurring guest star, not a love interest.

In his apartment, alone with him and his sister, it's harder to feel that way. Especially when, it has to be said, he looks _really good_ shirtless. Which is a shitty thing to think when he's sick and kind of miserable, but--wow, he has a great upper body.

"Thanks for walking her home," he says. "Sorry to put you out."

"Don't apologize. And sit down!" she adds. "What are you doing standing up, anyway? You're _sick_ , Bellamy."

"I was making tea. But thanks for yelling at me in my weakened state. Really appreciated."

"Take the medicine." She looks at the door. "Is that the kitchen?"

He gives her a wary look. "Why?"

"We got soup."

"And?"

"And I'm going to make it, obviously."

"You?" he asks, sounding dubious, and she glares.

"What?"

"You aren't allowed to use the panini press at work. That's how bad you are at cooking."

"That's a lot harder than warming up a can of soup."

"We can handle it."

"I bought myself one and I'm hungry," she says. "So I want to make it."

He sighs. "You don't have to make me soup, Clarke. I'm probably contagious. You should leave before you get it."

"Or I can make you soup."

Apparently, he's run out of energy to argue with her, because his shoulders slump. "Or you can make me soup. Thanks," he adds. 

"You're welcome. Seriously, go sit down. You look like you're about to fall over."

"Let me grab my tea," he says. "Kitchen's in here. Do you want soup, O?" he adds, and Clarke realizes Octavia left while she and Bellamy were busy bickering about cooking. Which is probably for the best.

"I'm not hungry, I'll make mine later! _I'm_ not an invalid!"

"Shut up!" he calls back. He smiles at Clarke. "Thanks for dealing with her."

"She's not as bad with people who aren't you."

"Yeah, we're decent with strangers," he says, and then looks immediately horrified. "Not that you're--"

"She's good with friends too," she supplies, taking pity on him, and he recovers his smile.

"Just not family, basically. You really don't have to do the soup," he adds. "Seriously, it's not even your kitchen--"

"At what point do you just accept that this is happening?"

"Probably like ten minutes after I finish the soup."

"Sounds right." She shoves him gently. "Take your tea to the couch and stay there, asshole."

"Wow. With bedside manner like that, no wonder you're premed," he teases, but it's lost in a sudden bout of coughing, this harsh, rough sound that makes her wince.

"Fuck. Did you _take_ any of the cold medicine yet?"

"That's my next step. I'm going to the couch," he adds. "If you need help, yell."

"I'm just going to put the soup in a bowl and then put the bowl in a microwave."

"Solid plan. Have fun with that."

He leaves with a vague wave over his shoulder, and Clarke surveys the kitchen with some minor anxiety. She doesn't actually think she can fuck up warming up canned soup, but--if she does, it's going to be really embarrassing.

But as she hoped, the bowls are easy to find, the cans are easy to open, and the microwave is straightforward. She gets the food done and brings it in to Bellamy, who's wrapped himself up in a blanket on the couch with his tea. He looks like a five-year-old in winter, and it's kind of adorable.

"So, how long have you been sick? What are your symptoms?"

He glares at her. "I have a cold. I know what a cold is."

"I'd say you're a grumpy sick person, but I know you're actually grumpy all the time. So I don't think I can blame the cold."

"Yeah, gotta stay on brand." He gives his soup an experimental stir, and then takes a spoonful. Somehow, he has the nerve to look surprised when he says, "It's good."

"It's a can of Campbell's soup heated up in the microwave. Did you really think I was going to fuck that up?"

"Sorry for believing in you," he says, taking another delicate slurp. "Uh, seriously. Thanks. But you don't actually have to hang out here getting my germs all over you."

"So you think I should take your bowl with my soup in it and eat walking back to campus? That's your plan?"

"No," he grants. "I just feel bad keeping you here."

"You're not keeping me here. I'm volunteering. Besides, I like hanging out with you."

"I'm not exactly a fun time right now."

"I like surly and congested."

"Lucky me." He clears his throat. "I've just been rewatching _Parks and Rec_ and wishing Leslie Knope was president. If you want in on that."

She settles into an old armchair, kind of squishy, but in a nice way, and takes a sip of her own perfectly acceptable microwaved soup. "Yeah, sounds perfect."

*

He's back at work two days later, which seems like a bad choice to Clarke.

"We're in food service, Bellamy. You're going to infect everyone. You're patient zero in an epidemic."

"I feel a lot better," he says, and immediately undermines the sentiment with a bought of coughing. "Indra said it was okay. I'm just working the register so I won't contaminate anything."

"Indra's a softie. I'm the professional here."

"If she wanted me to take sick days, she'd give me sick days. Seriously," he adds, smile going soft. "I'm fine. You're not bad at this whole doctor thing. You cured me."

"Oh good, I was really worried I needed to change careers."

"No, the medicine's fine. Not much of a cook, though."

"I nuked canned soup because you were dying. Sorry it didn't live up to your expectations."

He rubs the back of his neck. "Okay, that wasn't really the best way to try to, uh--I was going to offer to make you dinner. To say thanks. Once I'm not hacking up a lung."

"And that was how you were going to do it?" she asks, a little charmed in spite of herself. "Negging?"

"Fuck, that's even worse. Can I start over? Like--you're awesome, I've been wanting to ask you out for a while. So if I didn't totally fuck it up--" He starts coughing again, right on cue, and Clarke bites the corner of her mouth on her smile.

"Wow."

"Yeah, I know. Really bad, right?"

"Disastrous."

"I probably should have waited until I was actually better, but I didn't want to, uh, lose the moment."

"Yeah, that was so good, it would have been a shame to miss out."

His smile is sheepish. "Can we just pretend it never happened?"

"Does that mean you won't make me dinner? Because that sounded awesome."

His face breaks out in a grin. "Yeah?"

"Once you're not sick, yeah. The coughing is kind of gross."

"Cool. Uh--this would usually be where I kissed you, but--"

"But you're gross right now. Rain check."

"Rain check," he agrees, still smiling. "Looking forward to it."

It's a week before he's actually over it enough that Clarke's willing to go on the date, even though he swears it's _just_ a lingering cough. She's not taking any chances.

And he's worth the wait.


End file.
